


Bottoms Up

by fauvistfly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Drinking Games, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauvistfly/pseuds/fauvistfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack plays a drinking game while watching their favorite TV show. Stiles has made up the rules, but Derek doesn't agree with his definition of Unresolved Sexual Tension. Their argument quickly devolves into something filthier and messier than anything they see on TV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottoms Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [edie22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edie22/gifts).



> A huge, massive thank you to [inconvenientbastards](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inconvenientbastards/pseuds/inconvenientbastards) for last-minute beta calls and infinite butt sex knowledge. You're the best.
> 
> For edie22. Hope you like it! :)

“So, do I need to go over the rules again?” Stiles brings out his little white board from his freshman dorm days and points to each rule with a chewed up pen. “Take a shot if there is any eye-rolling, glaring, shirtless scenes, or unresolved sexual tension. Take two shots if—”

“Yes, Stiles, we know the rules. We’ve only been playing this game since the season premiere,” Erica interrupts, carrying a handful of shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker. “We’re going to end up arguing about when to take shots anyway, so why bother?”

Stiles sighs dramatically while flopping onto the arm of the couch. “Erica, Erica, Erica. If you would all just defer to me, we wouldn’t have to argue so much.”

Lydia pushes Stiles into the couch before stepping around his legs and sitting neatly next to him. “We wouldn’t argue if you didn’t insist on putting in subjective rules. Not everyone agrees on what unresolved sexual tension is. In fact, if we all actually recognized it in the same way,” Lydia says with a raised eyebrow, “we probably wouldn’t have so much of it.”

Stiles snorts dismissively and gets up, knowing that Jackson will just shove him out of the way if he waits any longer. Boyd sits on the couch as well, with Erica nestled on the floor in between his knees. Scott comes in from the kitchen and throws a bag of Cheetos at Stiles before sitting down on the love seat and opening a bag of Doritos; Allison perches next to him and immediately grabs a handful. Derek is in the easy chair, chatting with Isaac about who knows what. After wiping his Cheeto-dusted fingers on Jackson’s jeans and evading a punch, Stiles kneels in front of the coffee table and pours all the shots. 

“Okay, since you all know the rules, I’ll just make sure everyone drinks when it’s time.” He sucks the spilled whiskey off his fingers and then turns on the show before snuggling back into the couch.

***

“I’m not drinking.” Derek puts his glass down with a bored air.

“Dude, that was UST right there! The rules say drink!” Stiles flails with indignation. Scott and Allison ignore him as they take a shot with their arms entwined.

Derek crosses his arms, making his biceps glare at him as hard as his eyebrows. “That was not UST. They weren’t even touching.”

“What? Oh my god. Seriously?” Stiles rolls his eyes and slams down his shot glass. “You’re kidding me, right? You do not have to be touching to have unresolved sexual tension. Come on, dude.”

Derek settles back into his seat as if gearing up for a fight. “The tension exists because they are touching in one way but not in the way they want. That’s why the tension is unresolved. That scene just had them looking at each other, and not even at the same time. I’m not drinking for that.”

The condescension in Derek’s voice is clear, and it makes Stiles clench his fists in rage. He lifts his shirt to cover his face and then screams in frustration into it. “Guys, back me up. Come on, Scott! Lydia?”

“No way, Stiles. I’m not touching that conversation.” She leans over to put down her glass on the table and whispers to Erica, “We should start drinking to them instead.”

Erica snorts. “Please, I would’ve been drunk twice over by now,” she replies, and then both of them start laughing.

Stiles narrows his eyes at them. “What. What are you all laughing at?”

“They’re laughing at you because you’re wrong,” Derek says, putting his full glass down, ignoring the knowing look Erica throws his way.

Stiles glares at him and just mutters threats under his breath while pouring himself another shot.

When the main character goes shirtless moments later, Stiles whips back his shot but spills some on his hand. He starts licking off the excess, both from his fingers and from his wrist. He hears Lydia sniff loudly, and he looks up sharply to see if she’s judging him for his clumsiness but she’s no longer looking his way. He glances at Derek, half expecting a snarky comment, but Derek is determinedly staring at the TV, his lips pursed and his ears slightly red. Stiles pauses at that observation, since usually Derek’s ears don’t get red unless there’s some embarrassment or anger involved. Yes, Stiles is that aware of Derek’s particular reactions; he’s long given up on trying to suppress his tendency to notice everything about Derek, including his ridiculous attractiveness. He thinks back on what could possibly have made Derek’s ears red, his brow furrowed while he absentmindedly sucks on a finger. He’s drawing a complete blank, so he decides to take one last lick of his thumb before letting it go. 

***

When an argument over shot etiquette escalates into a full-on wrestling match between Jackson and Isaac, Stiles lets out a full body laugh, holding his stomach and sliding his shirt. When he looks over at Derek, he notices red ears again, but this time he also catches Derek’s gaze on his stomach where his hand is still baring a sliver of skin. “Funny, right Derek?” he says with amusement. When Derek meets his eyes, startled at being caught looking, Stiles winks cheekily and then laughs again at the way Derek’s glare intensifies. It’s possible that he slides his shirt up one more time, just to see if those ears can get any redder. They do.

Stiles starts playing with his newfound knowledge and tries to see what affects Derek the most. It seems to be a toss-up between licking his fingers and leaning his head to show off more of his neck, but he’s determined to test his theory further. He gets up to refill the chip bowl, but when he reaches into the cabinet to grab the chips from their hiding place on the top shelf, he’s startled by Derek’s presence.

“Need some help?” Derek murmurs before reaching past him to grab the chips. Stiles knows the offer makes absolutely no sense, seeing as they are almost the same height, but he can’t seem to get his brain working. He’s already slightly aroused by all the teasing he’s been doing since discovering Derek’s weaknesses, so the combination of Derek’s voice right by his ear and the warmth of his chest lightly pushed against his back is almost too much. Stiles tries not to show how much he’s affected, but he’s pretty sure Derek can hear the way his heart is either beating out of his chest or not beating at all. Still, he tries for an air of nonchalance and grabs the chips out of Derek’s hands before turning to look at him. 

“Thanks, big guy,” Stiles says with a pat to Derek’s chest. “Whenever you want to lend a helping hand, be my guest.” Stiles congratulates himself on not completely melting at the closeness of Derek’s scruff and heads back into the living room. 

By the time the show is over, Stiles has figured out that Derek has a thing for his hands, his neck, his stomach, and quite possibly his feet. Stile isn’t sure how he’s been so oblivious to these things, but he assumes it’s because he’d been completely consumed by his own attraction and attempts to hide it. He’s not sure what to do with this new knowledge, but he mulls over the possibilities as he starts putting away the shot glasses and throwing away all the napkins. The house is mostly empty now, with Scott lingering to halfheartedly bring dishes into the kitchen before Stiles shoos him out. 

When he hears the door shut, he assumes he’s alone and starts cleaning in earnest, soaking some of the dishes and grabbing a rag to wipe down the coffee table in the living room. He’s surprised when he sees Derek picking discarded napkins off the floor and gathering dirty cups.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was still here. You don’t have to do that.” Stiles moves forward to take the dishes out of Derek’s hands, but Derek just furrows his eyebrows before moving past him into the kitchen to dump them into the sink. 

“We’re old enough to clean up after ourselves,” Derek says. “It’s really the least I can do, considering how often you host these things.” Derek gives him half a smile, and Stiles is thrown by his sincerity.

In an attempt to hide his surprise, he says flippantly, “Hey, I know people have things to do, other people to do.” Stiles shrugs and moves to load the dishes into the dishwasher. 

Derek moves aside as Stiles methodically sorts the dishes and leans against the counter. “Just because your drinking game sucks doesn’t mean you should have to clean everything up by yourself.”

“What? My game doesn’t suck. What are you talking about?” Stiles shoves the dishwasher closed and frowns at Derek. 

Derek merely lifts his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “There was barely any unresolved tension in this episode, but you made everyone take shots anyway.” He pushes away from the counter to head back into the living room but pauses at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder to give Stiles a pointed look. “If you want to get drunk, you should just get drunk. Don’t use the game as an excuse for a buzz.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Just because you don’t agree with my definitions doesn’t mean my game sucks.” Stiles walks past him out of the kitchen, intentionally bumping into him on the way.

Derek follows him out, hovering while Stiles continues silently to pick up remnants of their evening. “Oh, sure, get huffy because I’m calling you out on your bullshit. Not every look means something. Maybe that guy is just feeling shitty and is glaring at the annoying one. Maybe he just has something on his mind.”

Stiles snorts loudly before viciously tossing used napkins into the trashcan. “Yeah, like sex--filthy, dirty sex, Derek. Just because you don’t think about sex doesn’t mean that other people don’t think about it.”

“What makes you think I don’t think about sex? You think I don’t know about sexual tension?” Derek says, moving closer as his voice lowers. “Maybe I just think it needs to be more tangible. You make it sound like every word, every look, is dripping with foreplay.”

“See? You’re misinterpreting my definitions and generalizing to make my argument less effective. But that’s not what I’m saying.” Stiles gives up the pretense of cleaning and stands to face Derek straight on. “It’s chemistry, Derek. Two people have it sometimes. It’s a combination of things, of words and looks and yes, touches, but it’s not just one of those things. Of course you have no idea.” Stiles gives Derek a long, searching look before shaking his head dismissively.

Something Stiles says must hit a nerve because the next thing he knows, Derek is grabbing his shirt and slamming him against the wall. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think you can just run your smart mouth,” Derek sneers, his eyes sliding down to Stiles’ mouth. “Talk your way out of everything, assume that people will just agree because you use big words and never stop for air. But you know what, Stiles? Sometimes actions really are louder than words.” Derek keeps his hold against Stiles, his eyes roving all over his face, daring him to argue back.

Despite being pushed up against the wall by a very strong werewolf, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to get back in his face with a retort. “See, that’s your problem, Derek. You have this body, and so you think you don’t have to use words or subtleties or anything. You just use your body and think that’s enough. But it isn’t.” Stiles hesitates before finishing his thought. “And you’re more than that.” Stiles can feel Derek backing down slowly, his shirt slowly being unclenched by Derek’s large hands. Stiles straightens up, brushing down his shirt and giving a little smirk before walking out of Derek’s personal space.

But before he’s completely out of reach, Derek jerks forward aggressively, as if he just has to have the last word. It infuriates him, and he lashes out. 

“Okay, you know what?” Stiles spits out, and he uses the element of surprise to turn the tables and shove Derek into the wall, into the very space that he was in two seconds ago. He can see the surprise in Derek’s face, the way his eyes start to harden and prepare for some cutting response. “You know what?” Stiles repeats, his hands curled around Derek’s shirt.

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but Stiles just shakes his head and says, “Fuck it.” And kisses him. Hard. 

At first, it’s clear that they’re still fighting, still wanting the last word as defined by the tightest squeeze of skin, the most bruising bite of the lip, the hardest pull of hair. But somewhere along the way--possibly encouraged by the breathless moan that Stiles is unable to suppress or the surprised way that Derek gasps when Stiles bites his earlobe—the struggles give way to heated desire, and they begin looking for ways to feed the flames.

"You know that, since I made the first move, I get to top," Stiles says as he works his tongue against Derek's throat, mouthing his Adam's apple and tugging at his hair. 

"Fine by me," says Derek while he works his hands down Stiles' pants, groping his ass and pulling him even closer. "Means I get the last word."

Stiles gasps as he feels Derek's teeth on that spot just below his ear. "How do you figure that?" he asks as he starts pulling at Derek's shirt.

Derek pushes back and strips off his shirt before leaning in for a filthy kiss. "Because after you top I'm going to fuck you into the mattress."

Stiles inhales noisily and starts grinding his hips against Derek's hard cock. "Is that a promise?" he asks as he nuzzles his face into Derek’s stubble. 

Derek bites Stiles' lip and then caresses it with his tongue, a small grin on his face. "You have my word."

Stiles smiles at that and starts unbuckling Derek's belt. "God, I love it when you use your words."

Somehow they make it upstairs, leaving a trail of clothes down the hallway and at the foot of Stiles’ bed. Stiles runs his hands over Derek’s chest and abs before pushing him down onto the bed. Before Derek can protest, Stiles kisses him again, moving him up so that he can reach into his nightstand for lube and condoms without having to pause in his kisses. The kisses alone are intoxicating, the way Derek tastes and how his tongue slides against his and sucks him into his mouth. Stiles wants to memorize every sound, every whimper and moan and breathy word that comes out of Derek’s mouth. They grind against each other slowly, skin slick with sweat and wet kisses, and the feeling is so fantastic that Stiles has to shake his head to remind himself of all the other things he wants to do. He starts inching down Derek’s body, kissing each muscle before nestling himself in between Derek’s legs. He places open-mouthed kisses all around Derek’s cock, licking his hip bones and nudging his nose against Derek’s balls, savoring the heady scent of his inner thighs. When Stiles finally takes him into his mouth, Derek lets out a filthy groan. “God, your mouth, Stiles,” he breathes, his hands gripping the covers.

Stiles slides one hand into Derek’s and smiles at the way he clenches when Stiles finally starts sucking and licking in earnest. He tongues the slit and laps up the tang of the pre-come, moaning at the taste. Stiles hums in pleasure, one hand rubbing sliding up and down Derek’s cock; he takes his other hand, entwined with Derek’s, and brings it up to his hair. Derek easily lets go of his hand and threads his fingers through Stiles’ hair, pulling when Stiles sucks hard on just the tip of his cock. Stiles smiles up at Derek and gives him a wink to let him know he’s fine with some hair-pulling before going back to sucking. Soon, Derek’s cock is covered in spit and Stiles lips are red and swollen. He lets go to spread lube on his fingers and then starts pressing against Derek’s hole while sliding his tongue around the head of Derek’s cock. The small whimpers turn into a deep groan when Stiles takes him in fully and pushes a finger in at the same time. The warmth and tightness around his finger make Stiles whimper with anticipation at being inside him. He starts sliding in and out, twisting his finger to open him up and discover all his sensitive spots. He can hear Derek’s breath hitch and stutter as he loosens him up, and his own cock twitches in reaction to seeing Derek swallow harshly at the addition of another finger. He adds a third when Derek starts whining and making halting thrusts against Stiles’ hand. The way Derek groans every time Stiles curls his fingers makes Stiles want to finger fuck him and suck him until he comes all over his face, but soon Derek starts pulling his hair to get him to stop. “I’m good. I’m so good. Come up here,” Derek says, his voice already raspy with desire.

Stiles sits up and rolls on the condom, hands still slick with lube and spit and pre-come. Derek watches Stiles slide his hand up his cock a few times and then sits up to turn and get on his knees.

Stiles inhales sharply at the sight of Derek’s ass and thighs spread out before him. He slides his hand up and down Derek’s hips before moving forward. “You good?” Stiles asks, his cock sliding between Derek’s cheeks and against Derek’s entrance.

Derek doesn’t say anything but pushes back and spreads his legs even wider. Stiles chuckles, muttering, “Of course,” under his breath before spreading Derek’s ass and then inching slowly into him. When he finally bottoms out, he pauses and lets the force of Derek’s warmth around him wash over him. He skates his hands up Derek’s back, resting on his tattoo, and then starts making deliberately shallow thrusts, tiny movements allowing Derek to adjust to his cock/size to make sure Derek has adjusted to Stiles’ cock inside him . Once Stiles starts gliding smoothly inside him, he pulls almost completely out before finally thrusting hard and deep. Derek cries out, “Stiles,” and Stiles almost comes right there from the sound of his own name on Derek’s wrecked voice. He grips Derek’s hips tightly, as if pressing a cap down on his dick, and then breathes out slowly.

“Jesus, Derek.” He can’t articulate more than that, so he leans forward until Stiles is completely draped over him. He starts pounding into Derek, mouthing at his neck, his shoulders, his ears, until Derek turns around and catches his face in a forceful kiss, his hips pressing back into Stiles’ thrusts.

Stiles drives forward again and again, faster and harder, his kisses getting sloppier until he simply presses his open mouth on Derek’s face, unable to do more. He runs one hand up and down Derek’s abs, holding on tight. His other hand lands on top of Derek’s on the headboard, and he links their fingers. 

“No, I don’t want to come yet,” Derek says, batting away Stiles’ hand when it starts moving to grip his cock. He leans his head back and moans as Stiles sucks the skin at the curve of his shoulder. He reaches one hand back and grips Stiles’ ass, pressing him even closer. 

“Why not?” he says breathily. “I’m so close. Oh God, Derek.” Stiles starts thrusting faster, his nails digging into Derek’s hips.

“Because I gave you my word that I’d fuck you into the mattress,” Derek says, squeezing around Stiles’ cock and turning his head for a wet kiss.

Stiles stutters to a halt, his body seizing up as his orgasm crashes over him. “Fuck,” he bites out, his head falling to Derek’s shoulder. He feels his body shuddering with pleasure, and he slumps forward, wiping his sweaty brow on Derek’s back. 

Derek huffs out a laugh and nudges him gently. “Hey, don’t fall asleep just yet, asshole.”

Stiles bites him playfully in response before pulling out slowly and collapsing on his back. “Oh my god.” He reaches down to tie off the condom and tosses it towards the trash can conveniently located by his bed.

Derek slides his body down next to Stiles’ and watches him fondly. “So, my words turn you on that much?”

Stiles breathes out slowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he attempts to slow down his frantic heartbeat. “Just give me a second. That was, like, years of unresolved sexual tension right there, just exploding. So just fuck off.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” Derek says, his blunt words softened by the way he gently caresses the curve of his jaw.

“Oh my god, you did not just make that joke. I take it back. Don’t use your words.”

“Fine. Guess I’ll just go back to using my body.” Derek leans in for a kiss, his hand cupping Stiles’ face and their tongues slowly sliding against each other. Derek is still rock hard, pushing up against Stiles’ thigh, but he takes his time and thoroughly enjoys Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles is in a daze, a highly pleasurable, intensely stimulating daze. He’s not sure how he got from almost falling asleep after a particularly intense orgasm to having his entire body awash with pleasure from Derek’s sure fingers opening him up, but he is definitely not complaining. When Derek slides inside him, so achingly slow, his body buzzes. It’s a constant level of arousal, not really building or intensifying but simply omnipresent. It’s surprising, actually, how different Derek is from his fantasies; he imagined a hard pounding, complete with growls and biting and borderline pain. This steady, almost languorous thrusting feels so incredible but so far from what he expected. He’s about to say something to Derek, tease him for being a sweetheart in bed, when Derek interrupts his thoughts.

“You think you’re ready yet?” Derek asks, his voice husky and slightly muffled in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and pulls himself closer, close enough to take a bite of Derek’s ear; he smirks when Derek breathes in sharply. “Ready for what? There’s more? ‘Cause this is pretty damn good right here,” Stiles replies, kissing and sucking Derek’s neck. “But I am ready, whatever it is you’re planning on doing. My body is ready, big guy.”

When Derek feels Stiles bite his ear again, he groans and then reaches down to hook his arm under Stiles’ knee. “Good,” Derek bites out. “Hold on, then.” 

“Hold on?” Stiles is about to ask why when Derek answers his unspoken question and starts hammering into him. That steady rocking from before, the buzz of contented stimulation is now smashed as his arousal spikes. He tightens his arms around Derek’s neck, hands scrambling for purchase. He was moaning before, soft whimpers of pleasure, but now his groans are ripped out of him, his mouth searching for something to bite as his body tightens in response to Derek’s unforgiving thrusts. Stiles moves to wrap both legs around Derek’s waist to drive him even deeper. The smacking sounds punctuated by Derek’s heavy pants make Stiles’ cock harden again with pleasure, and it’s all he can do to hold on. Derek hovers above him, braced on his forearms, and Stiles turns to give one a nip. Derek leans down and kisses him filthily, but after a few moments they simply breathe together, tongues darting out but lips not quite coordinated enough to kiss. Derek leans back a little, spreads Stiles’ knees wide and then pushes them up towards his chest. The new angle is almost too much, and Stiles can feel himself building towards another orgasm. He starts moving even more, gyrating his hips in Derek’s hands and digging his heels into Derek’s back. He licks his hand and reaches down to grasp his cock, moaning at all the sensations. He starts jerking quickly, knowing this won’t be one to drag out. He swipes his thumb over his head, and then his orgasm slams through him. “Oh, fuck,” Stiles cries out, watching himself come all over his stomach. He squeezes his dick, trying to hold onto the intensity of the moment, and clenches his ass to urge Derek on. 

Derek quickly follows him, thrusting rapidly a few more times before driving in one last time, arms reaching forward to cradle Stiles’ shoulders. “Fuck,” Derek exhales quietly, his body slowly relaxing until he’s dropped fully on top of Stiles.

“Wow,” Stiles says after a few moments of listening to their mingled breathing. “We are one sticky sandwich.” 

Derek starts laughing, and the motion tickles Stiles underneath and makes him laugh as well. Derek leans back a little to give Stiles a fond kiss and then slowly detaches himself from the mess of come and sweat between them.

Stiles stretches out, arms and legs spread obscenely, and then turns to Derek with a grin. “So, that far surpassed all my fantasies of you in my bed. Are you going to make me keep this a secret, or can I run and tell everyone all the dirty things that—“

Derek slaps his hand over Stiles’ mouth and only cocks and eyebrow when Stiles licks his hand. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out. They’ve been watching our unresolved sexual tension longer than we’ve had drinking games dedicated to them. They’ll know if it’s been resolved.”

“So, are you saying that my definition is correct and that you should’ve taken shots all those times you argued with me?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Derek grumbles, his eyes already drooping from exhaustion.

“Why should I? Look where it got me this time!” Stiles leans over to give Derek a quick kiss on the shoulder before rolling out of bed to get a damp cloth. When he returns, Derek has gotten rid of the condom, but that’s the only sign that he’s moved at all. Stiles gently wipes the both of them down before crawling under the covers and nudging Derek to do the same. He tucks himself under Derek’s arm and snuggles into his side, smiling when Derek tightens his arm around him and kisses him on the head. 

“Fine. You’re right. Now can we stop playing that stupid drinking game?” Derek mumbles.

Stiles gasps in mock horror. “What? You don’t like my game? But what other excuse can I use to touch you?”

“You can touch me all you want, even if you’re not drunk. I give you permission. Now shut up so we can sleep.”

Stiles bites at Derek’s chest and says, “Okay. I will. You can’t take it back. You’ve given me full permission now.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Okay. Shutting—“ 

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles, thoroughly and deeply, and then places his finger over Stiles’ lips. He falls back against the pillow and definitely does not grin when Stiles whispers, “Okay.”


End file.
